Other Fan Fiction ❯ Winter's Maw ❯ Chapter 1

Wind like a thousand frozen needles lashed against his face and tore at his eyes as he raised his head to survey the path ahead of him. Solidifying pieces of snow clung to the outside of his cloak, and he could barely stay upright such was the blizzard's ferocity.

 

To stop is to freeze, he thought grimly, To freeze is to die. To die is to fail.

 

Gritting his teeth and renewing his grip on the cloth bound object in his left hand, he began walking forward again. As he walked, his mind wandered to the events leading up to this journey through the depths of winter's maw.

 

It had been two weeks since Siegfried had encountered the strange, scythe wielding man Zasalamel. The man had managed to absorb the power of both the cursed sword Soul Edge and the spirit sword Soul Calibur into his body, and transformed into a being of the abyss. The monster's opening attack had broken his greatsword, Requiem, but for some reason Soul Calibur had managed to free itself, and taking it up, Siegfried willed the enchanted steel to change and grow to match his preferences. Although the ensuing melee almost destroyed his body, Siegfried's determination and Soul Calibur's strength destroyed Zasalamel and smashed Soul Edge into lifeless pieces. But Siegfried knew better than most the extent of Soul Edge's power, and he gathered up the broken pieces. Soul Calibur as a zweihandler would have been too massive for what Siegfried had in mind, so he willed it back to its original state, securing it and Soul Edge's pieces into two separate packages, before embarking on his life's next great journey.

 

Breathing heavily, Siegfried allowed himself a brief respite within a cave. Sitting down on a rock, he stabbed the cloth wrapped spirit sword into the icy soil, taking a water canteen from under his all-enshrouding cloak. By his reckoning it would take another days walk to reach the base of the mountains, and another day to find the right mountain.

 

A disjointed voice whispered to him, but he had learnt long ago to ignore its ramblings. From inside his backpack, the pieces of Soul Edge continued its attempts at breaking Siegfried's resolve and sanity, but it had seemed that his mental fortitude had steeled over the recent months.

 

Taking one final sip, Siegfried capped and replaced his canteen. Something to his left caught his attention and he was standing in an instant, his weapon drawn - before setting off on his journey he had stopped by the hidden alcove where his other swords were stored, and chosen the rune inscribed black-sword Glam to replace Requiem. Siegfried took a cautious step forward, wary that Soul Calibur was still stabbed into the ground behind him. He knew not what to expect, since these lands east of his homeland contained creatures he had never seen before, and it would not have surprised him if something could live through this kind of winter. As he approached the darkness of the cave's innards, the stench of rotting flesh made its presence known.

 

A sudden fluttering of wings brought Siegfried's mind back into focus, and he raised Glam into a defensive position. A cluster of shadowy shapes dived out from the depths of the cave. The creatures made shrill squawking noises, and Siegfried felt a talon slice into his cheek before Glam found flesh. He backed towards the light of the cave's opening, blocking the blind flailing of whatever was attacking him.

 

As he moved out of the darkness, he fought to contain his surprise as the nature of his attackers was revealed. He recognised them from books he had read as harpies, creatures with the head and body of a woman and the wings, tail and talons of a bird. He counted six of them, with three more in mangled writing heaps behind. But there was something else about them. Siegfried slammed his sword down, cleaving the wing from one of the monsters. He gripped the hilt tighter as he realised the origin of the corpse smell was coming from these things, and the dull red glow from their eyes was not entirely unfamiliar to him, nor was the energy being emitted by them. He slashed left, reaching one arm back to unsling his backpack - he had a good feeling he knew what had caused the reanimation. He slashed back across his body with his other hand, striking one of the screeching corpses in the stomach and spilling putrid innards everywhere. He stepped back a few paces, letting his backpack fall to the ground. Immediately the remaining harpies began to flutter around it, ignoring Siegfried altogether.

 

With a grim smile Siegfried swept his blade in a wide arc, hitting all of the harpies in one swing. They hit the ground with dull thuds, and Siegfried grabbed his backpack away from the crumpled heap of feathers that had collapsed onto it, kicking the heap with a disgusted snarl.

 

“I have to hurry,” he said to himself, stabbing Glam into the ground and slinging the backpack onto his back under the cloak. “The cursed sword is stretching its influence.”

 

He left the cave quickly, grabbing up Soul Calibur as he left, and continued his walk. Outside, the blizzard had subsided into a light snowfall.

 

By his reckoning, two hours had passed when Siegfried felt something stirring in his subconscious. At first he thought it was Soul Edge whispering to him again, but the cursed sword's pieces had been silent since the encounter with the harpies. Siegfried brushed off the odd feeling, continuing forward. But the feeling returned, stronger this time, and he gasped, dropping to one knee and grabbing at his head. It sounded like a cry for help. Images of a glistening, frozen cavern flooded into his mind, and he screamed mentally. He propped himself up with Soul Calibur as he felt his body becoming heavier.

 

“No,” he hissed, “I can't fall.”

 

“Help me!” the voice inside his head whispered again, urgently, “You must help me!”

 

“Who are you?” Siegfried demanded in answer. Although he had tried to keep the words inside his mind, he still found himself speaking them aloud. “Why the hell should I listen to a voice in my head?”

 

The voice laughed, although the humour was forced. “I suppose you must have had enough of that, Siegfried Schtauffen.”

 

“You even know my name. Even more of a reason not to trust you.” Siegfried clenched his fist, trying to block out the voice, and forcing his leaden body to walk.

 

He made it three steps before he dropped to his knees again. This time he felt Soul Calibur radiating its energies, strengthening the sound of the voice.

 

“Please, righteous hero,” the voice pleaded, “You must help me.”

 

“Righteous hero?” Siegfried spat the words as if they were a curse, “I have no right to that kind of honorific title.”

 

Again, the voice laughed, and for the first time Siegfried realised that it was female, young and beautiful from the sound of it. Of course, he did not discount the fact that whoever it was may have tried to conceal their true nature to play on the temptations of whoever was insane enough to be in these regions.

 

“You bear Soul Calibur,” the voice continued, “That is enough to convince me that your intentions are not evil.”

 

“Obviously you can't sense anything else that I'm carrying.”

 

“I sense that you are burdened by guilt.”

 

The voice whimpered painfully, and with a short scream it vanished from Siegfried's mind. At the same time, Soul Calibur stopped emitting its energy, as if it had exhausted itself prolonging the length of the woman's plea. Siegfried's body also regained strength, and he stood up, frowning at the prospects of an impediment to the task at hand. For some reason, however, he could not shake the thought of the woman's location from his mind, as if the directions to the place were imprinted onto his memory.

 

“You win,” Siegfried sighed, changing the direction of his journey and following his borrowed memory…

 

Another day of walking brought Siegfried to the bottom of a valley. The voice had spoken to him just once more but that had been only briefly. In the short exchange, Siegfried had discerned that her name was Mischa, but other than that she was in dire peril he had not learned anything else.

 

Instinct led him to a wall of ice. It was too thick to see through, but Siegfried knew that this was the entrance to the cavern in his visions. He rapped his gauntleted knuckles against the ice, before taking a small sliver-like crystal from a pouch at his belt, pressing the tip against the wall. There was a slight sizzling noise as the deep green crystal drilled itself into the ice, and Siegfried took few steps back, drawing Glam from his back. He stabbed Soul Calibur into the snow, taking Glam into a two handed grip and heaving it into a heavy down slash. There was a tumultuous rumble as the wall shattered and fell away. Siegfried propped Glam over one shoulder, taking up Soul Calibur and striding through the gaping cave mouth. He had detected magic in the ice sealing the inside of the cave, and that it was beginning to weaken, perhaps over time. Regardless, he surprised himself with the smooth workings of the abolishment crystal - there was no way he would have broken through the magic barrier without the anti-magic that had been compressed into the crystal. He would have to thank the platinum haired woman later.

 

Inside, it was as Siegfried had seen it: a long, shimmering corridor with a small arch to signify an end. He approached it carefully, his senses alert to his surroundings. Soul Edge had begun its whispering again - presumably, it had recovered its strength after possessing the dead harpies.

 

He stepped through the arch, smirking at the sight presented to him. The corridor opened up into a platform, no more than three metres across, looking over a vast cavern of ice - again identical to the images Mischa had been planting in his head. At perhaps the centre of the cavern, a cone shaped formation stood, two dark lines trailing from either side and disappearing into the ground.

 

“Siegfried!”

 

Mischa's voice seemed to resonate around the chamber, and Siegfried blinked. Her voice had still been in his mind, but it had sounded verbal. He stabbed Glam into the floor, unwrapping a length of cloth from either end of Soul Calibur and tying them into a sling. He swung it over his shoulder, picked up Glam, and leapt from the platform. It was a five-metre drop, and as soon as he landed Siegfried dug his shoulder into the ice and rolled to break his fall.

 

How are you going to get back up there, genius? he thought cynically to himself.

 

Deciding to leave the matter, Siegfried approached the ice formation. As he got closer his eyes managed to see the true nature of the formation, and his heart skipped a beat. It was a person's body, embedded within the ice. Chains were shackled to the person's wrists, and were the dark lines Siegfried had seen before. He wiped away the fog, and stepped back in surprise.

 

“Siegfried!”

 

Mischa's voice pounded in his mind again, more desperate this time.

 

“The sword! Remove the sword!”

 

Siegfried looked down, realising that there was in fact a sword impaling the block - and Mischa. The blade was completely covered in frost, and small stalactites had formed on the underside.

 

“Here goes,” he murmured, taking a hold of the hilt.

 

He gasped, struggling to release his grip and pulling away his hand. The sword was not a normal sword, and now that he looked closer he realised the blade was made from a similar anti-magic crystal that he had used to enter this place, except this one seemed to drain the life from him. There was a tinkering noise as something fell from the ceiling, and Siegfried whirled around, Glam in his hands and held in a low defensive stance.

 

“There are always guardians,” he snarled, as the first one stepped forward.

 

An empty hissing was the only warning he received before the strangely dressed man leapt forward, a curved sword in either hand. The blades made a melodic ring as Siegfried blocked the first three attacks, before dropping down for a counter attack. The guardian flipped over the sweeping blade, diving forwards again and stabbing both swords down. Siegfried rolled away, and the blades found nothing but the frozen ground. The guardian moved into a ready stance, and Siegfried frowned. The man was not exactly a man, more a skeletal puppet, wielding the same kind of blades as the one he had encountered in his most recent campaign against Soul Edge. The revenant dived forward again, but its attacks were ill judged, and Siegfried's counter attack ripped away an arm before Glam doubled back and smashed away both legs. The dead thing clacked its jaw as it writhed on the ground, and Siegfried stomped his boot onto its skull with a grumble. There was a screeching sound, like steel through ice, and Siegfried looked up, cursing loudly at the large spike of ice falling from the roof of the cavern. Diving to one side, he raised his blade to block another revenant's, kicking it in the gut to move it away from him before jumping back a step. The revenant made to move back within striking distance, but it cast its hollow gaze up, letting out a disjointed hiss before it was destroyed by another falling stalactite. Siegfried looked up again, noting the third revenant jumping from ice spike to ice spike, using one of its blades as an anchor and the other to slice through the frozen formations. Another humanoid shape dropped from the roof - a fourth revenant - and Siegfried met its charge. There was something about the blades they wielded, and Siegfried allowed himself to be backed against a stalagmite before ducking at the last moment to avoid the deathblow. The blade sliced clean through the solid ice, and Siegfried rose, heaving Glam into a high rising slash. The revenant flew across the chamber, launched into the air by Siegfried's attack and landing in a crumpled heap. Chased by a series of falling stalactites, he ran over to the broken corpse, picking up one of its blades and turning to face the last one - he hoped - on the roof. Taking a few steps and spinning to add momentum, Siegfried hurled the blade at the last revenant. More accurately, at the stalactite it was attached to.

 

The blade of the sword had been treated to make them capable of cutting through such solid ice with such ease - most likely to make the roof running guardian's job easier - and Siegfried smiled with grim satisfaction as his hurled blade did as it was intended. Too late the skeletal puppet realised it was facing impending doom, and it tried to leap free. The blade passed through the stalactite just as the revenant jumped, and it fell short of the nearest one by barely a metre. It flailed wildly as the ground rushed up to it, and Siegfried winced involuntarily as it bounced and scattered into multiple pieces.

 

Sighing, Siegfried walked back over to where Mischa was.

 

“Are you still alive?” he asked.

 

“Hurry…” Her voice sounded distant.

 

“Then here goes again.”

 

He took a firm grip of the hilt with his left hand, and pulled. Siegfried grunted as a wave of coldness ran through his arm, and he dropped Glam to take a two handed grip on the sword.

 

“Damn it,” he hissed as he began to lose feeling in both arms. The draining feeling was much worse now, as if death's spectral fingers were clawing at him. He felt the blade move, and with a scream of effort he dragged the rest of it free, flinging it away with a roar.

 

There was another series of loud cracks, and Siegfried turned his back, throwing up his cloak to shield his face as the ice imprisoning Mischa exploded…

 

He got to his feet as quickly as his complaining limbs would allow him, hurrying over to the crumpled form that was Mischa. He knelt down, lifting her delicate body before noting that the chains around her wrists were still secure. He lay her down gently, before retrieving Glam from where he had dropped it.

 

“I can't cut the shackles without cutting her hands,” Siegfried murmured, “I'll have to make do.”

 

A quick slash severed the chain as close to Mischa's arm as Siegfried dared, and he moved to the other side to break that chain.

 

“Sieg…fried…”

 

He blinked at the sound of her voice. He had heard it with his ears, not within his head. She was still alive!

 

“Mischa,” Siegfried said, trying to sound reassuring, “Bear with it for a moment.”

 

She mumbled something incomprehensible, and Siegfried gritted his teeth, breaking the other chain with a deft cut. He dropped Glam again, pulling off his cloak and wrapping Mischa in it and holding her close to him. He doubted that much of his body's heat would transfer to her through the plate armour that he was wearing, but for the first time he realised how much he had come to care for this girl. Siegfried looked down, inspecting her chest for the wound that the sword should have caused, but there was nothing. His gaze drifted up, and he looked at her face as he cradled her head in his arm, sighing in wonder as he saw her beauty for the first time. Black hair framed a delicate face that was now pinched blue from the cold. Her body felt unnaturally light in his arms, but Siegfried had no idea how long she had spent imprisoned here. Aside from the cloak that Siegfried had swaddled her in, a threadbare white gown was all she was wearing.

 

Siegfried stood up, looking in the direction of the cave's opening, five metres above the ground.

 

“Well,” he mused, “This will make things interesting…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Crackling quietly, the fire was small but it was enough. Mischa snuggled deeper into Siegfried's cloak, mesmerised by the dancing flames. Her wrists were still slightly sore from when Siegfried had used the pommel of his massive sword and smashed the bolts securing the shackles.

 

Sitting back with a deep sigh, Siegfried cast a look at Mischa. Instead of trying to climb the wall of snow covered rock while holding her unconscious body, he had opted to stay inside the cavern and wait until she was in a better condition. He had made that decision four hours ago, and only an hour ago had she awoken. Siegfried was surprised, however, at the speed of her recovery. Already colour was returning to her skin, and she constantly glanced at her rescuer with a wan smile.

 

“Well?” Siegfried said. The sound surprised him a little - it had grown deathly quiet since the fighting had ended.

 

“I…” Mischa started, before wrapping her arms around herself tighter, “I suppose I have much explaining to do.”

 

There was an odd sound, and Mischa giggled despite herself as she realised that it had been Siegfried laughing. “Sorry.”

 

“There is magic within me. You must have felt it by now.”

 

Right to the point, Siegfried thought to himself.

 

“Although it is not really what I am talking about, I used the magic of my mind to communicate to you, and draw you here.”

 

“I'm not the first,” Siegfried noted grimly. Although they were heavily frost covered and decomposed, there was no mistaking at least six corpses and various weapons in places around the cavern.

 

“Thankfully you were the last…as I said, there is magic within me, but more than what I did with my mind. What I discovered when I was just a child is that I had a magical command of fire.”

 

Pieces fell into place in Siegfried's mind, and his eyes widened.

 

“I see you have realised.” Mischa was smiling, and her soul's spark seemed to have completely returned to her.

 

She gasped as Siegfried leapt to his feet, Glam instantly in his hand, the tip of the terrible blade pointed at her face. “No!” she stammered, “Please, Siegfried…”

 

“I did not go out of my way to save you, just to have you deceive me. Magic is evil.” His gaze was unwavering, his sword unmoving. But as he stared into her eyes, he saw sincerity in her fear. It was true that all magic was inherently evil, but this girl…something behind all of her material beauty endeared to him.

 

He lowered his blade slowly. “Shall I make the fire bigger, or is this enough for you?”

 

“It…is enough,” Mischa replied, confusion replacing fear in her voice.

 

Siegfried walked back to his backpack, pulling a pair of boots from it and placing them in front of Mischa. “You won't walk far in bare feet. Unfortunately I don't have any clothes for you, but I have a spare cloak. You can keep that one.”

 

He made preparations to leave, packing away the things he had unpacked. “We'll leave when you're ready.”

 

Mischa pulled on the boots - they seemed new, and were just a little too large, but it didn't matter. “I haven't told you how I came to be here,” she said, getting to her feet and securing the heavy cloak around her neck with the thick cord that was sewn into it.

 

“Don't,” Siegfried replied simply, “Better to look to the future than dwell on the past.” He looked at his right arm and his backpack involuntarily, before clenching his fist and sliding his spare cloak over his armoured body. “Now, on matters at hand…do you think you can climb that?” He pointed to the wall.

 

Approaching the wall, Mischa laid her palm against the snow.

 

“What are you doing?” Siegfried stepped up next to the girl, making sure that Glam was secure on his back.

 

Mischa did not reply, instead closing her eyes and furrowing her brow with concentration. “Step back,” she said suddenly.

 

Siegfried complied, curious as to what was going to happen. If she had a magical control of fire, then what would she be able to do with a wall of ice and snow?

 

No sooner had his thoughts entered his mind, a bur of ice shot from the wall, creating a handhold. More of the burs appeared up the wall, and Siegfried smiled in marvel. “I thought you commanded fire.”

 

“That was as a child,” Mischa grinned, turning around, “Expanding my power was slightly arduous, but useful as it turns out. Shall we?”

 

“After you,” Siegfried bowed slightly, “I wouldn't want all of my weight to fall on you.”

 

“You don't trust my creations,” Mischa pouted with mock offence.

 

Siegfried began to laugh, but cut himself short. He tightened his grip on Soul Calibur in his left hand, “Let's go.”

 

Mischa's smile faded, “I'm sorry,” she said softly, as she began to climb the wall. Siegfried did not reply, making his way up the wall behind her. His gloves repelled the worst of the cold - he was clinging to solid runnels of ice, after all - but he wondered how Mischa was coping. He said as much after dragging himself onto the ledge leading to the cave exit. By way of reply, Mischa held up her hands, and Siegfried blinked as they ignited with strange flame.

 

“Nice trick,” he commented.

 

“I thought so too…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It took a full day to get out of the valley where the cavern had been hidden, and another to reach the base of the mountain that was the ending point of Siegfried's original plan. In the ample time he had had, Siegfried explained that he intended to seal both the pieces of the cursed sword and spirit sword within a chasm at the base of a particular mountain in the area. He had learnt of the place from the platinum haired woman named Valentine, and if he returned to more familiar lands alive he would remember to thank her.

 

A strange howling floated from the high but narrow crack in the mountain's side. Siegfried shielded his face with his palm as an icy squall billowed from within.

 

“This is the place.” Siegfried looked around for a stick he could use as a torch while unlimbering his backpack, taking out the flint and tinder he kept in there, before grunting dismissively and putting them back. Mischa was grinning, a globe of flame floating above her palm.

 

“Shall we?” she asked nonchalantly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They came to the end of a jagged final corridor, and even the light of Mischa's flame was almost smothered by the vast darkness.

 

“Can you make it bigger?” Siegfried asked, blinking as the space threatened to swallow his voice as well.

 

Mischa looked around, “I can do better.”

 

Siegfried followed her gaze, spotting what she had: a line of unlit torches that continued seemingly forever.

 

“I hope my aim hasn't gotten worse,” she muttered, flicking the ball of flame at one of the torches with a flick of her wrist.

 

The torch ignited with a pop, and Mischa's eyes glowed with power as it leapt to the next in line, then the next, each torch revealing more and more of the cavern. Siegfried's eyes widened as perhaps the hundredth torch lit, and the cavern was almost completely revealed. The place was in fact not as large as Siegfried originally thought, and in the newly created light he saw what it was that had seemed to swallow all sense of life.

 

Twenty metres across, the chasm gaped from the ground like the jaws of some great beast. Siegfried bent down, picking up a stone and dropping it into the abyss. The only sound was a light crunching as it was crushed into oblivion on its way down.

 

“We should hurry,” Mischa murmured, and Siegfried looked around. She looked concerned, scared even, “I don't know what it is, but there is something about this place…”

 

Siegfried pulled off his backpack quickly, taking the pieces of Soul Edge that he had carried since he started his journey. He didn't know how Mischa would react to it, since it was the first time he had taken it out in her presence, but before he could dwell on it, he undid the cloth and scattered the pieces into the gulf. He reached to take Soul Calibur from his back, prepared to throw that in as well, when there was a rumbling beneath his feet.

 

“Get back!” Mischa screamed suddenly.

 

He turned and started to run, but the ground fell away as Siegfried moved, and he felt himself falling. He reached out desperately, his hand closing on something solid and cold.

 

Mischa grunted with effort, stepping backwards and hoping that the large spike of ice she had created over and beyond her arm would hold Siegfried's weight. His feet found relatively solid ground again, and he sprinted forward beside her. He turned around, and immediately wished he didn't.

 

The dragon was majestic in a terrifying sense, its vast wings beating slowly to keep it airborne. There was a malicious presence about it, and Siegfried growled angrily, cursing Soul Edge's name as he realised that this beast was in fact dead, but reanimated in the same manner as the harpies.

 

“Go,” Mischa said softly, taking a step forward.

 

“What!?” Siegfried reached forward to hold her back, but she snapped around, throwing him backwards with nothing but her gaze. He felt Soul Calibur drop from his grip, and watched as it unravelled itself and floated into Mischa's outstretched hand. “Mischa!”

 

“You'll die if you fight,” she replied, facing the dragon again.

 

“So will you,” Siegfried got to his feet.

 

“Perhaps.” Soul Calibur glowed in her hands, and there was a cracking noise as a pair of appendages grew from Mischa's back. The spirit sword extended, taking material form as a long, twin pronged spear. Mischa's growths took on a leathery appearance, forming into wings that were identical to the dragon's in every way except scale. “But the strength bestowed to me by my cursed blood will hold off this beast for longer than you will. Go, Siegfried. Live on, and savour your redemption.”

 

“Mischa!!” Siegfried reached out pointlessly as she beat her wings and took flight.

 

“Thank you, Siegfried,” she said without turning. “You are indeed a righteous hero.”

 

Siegfried stepped back as large pieces of the cavern detached themselves and landed around him. With one final look at the inhuman woman who had called herself Mischa, he turned back to the corridor and fled for his life…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sitting alone and facing the panoramic view of the mountain range, Siegfried sighed. He believed that she was still alive, but it didn't matter too much. Soul Edge and Soul Calibur were no longer needed in the world, and no matter how he felt about Mischa, he knew that neither weapon would fall into human hands again.

 

“To live,” he muttered to himself, rising to his feet, “That is my redemption.” He looked towards the direction of his homeland, “Then so be it…”